


Fateful Impulses

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related: insideman, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:30:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim must battle to save his guide along with Michelle and her son when Lazar from "Inside Man" escapes from prison.  He also discovers he might have fathered a child with Michelle, which complicates matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fateful Impulses

## Fateful Impulses

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Summary: When Lazar escapes from prison with a desire for revenge, Jim must fight to protect his partner as well as Lazar's wife and son who are in the Witness Protection program. Stakes get even higher when he discovers that he may have fathered a daughter during his time undercover. 

Rating: NC-17 

Warning: Spoilers for "Inside Man". 

* * *

Fateful Impulses  
by Grey 

Dark curls swamped his face as full lips pressed down, a slick tongue eagerly seeking conquest of his own. Strong hands held his head steady and Blair pulled back long enough to whisper, "I love kissing you in the morning, Jim." 

"Knock yourself out, babe." Wrapping his arms up and around his lover's waist, he hugged him closer, his muscles sluggish from waking, his throat still husky from sleep. "You feel great." 

The slow stretch of bare flesh down his body eased into an even rocking, Blair's erection rubbing against Jim's crotch. Chest hair tickled his nipples, the wiry friction firing shudders up his spine. Nipping turned to licking up his whiskered jaw and down his neck, his thickened cock begging for more. Thighs spread as hips lifted, meeting the play against him. Round muscles of his partner's ass clenched against his claiming palms, the firm flesh welcoming heat. 

"Feels so good, man. So fucking good." 

The low chant haunted his ears as they pumped together, the rhythm growing more urgent. Sweat trickled between them, slicking the skin. Blair's hand slid between the bodies, rolling his balls and rubbing harder. He fisted Jim's cock with a practiced touch, the grip gloving the sensitive skin with a swarm of pleasure. Belly muscles tightened, the coiling swirl a pressure building, his thighs stinging with his own simmering blood. Eyes squeezed shut, the increasing roar married with a swelling rush through his bones. His whole body pulsed, each cycle stronger, more powerful with each thrust against him, each call from his lover's voice. 

Too quickly his brain sizzled, the bright flashes exploding to red, the yellows swimming liquid flame though every tendon and tissue. Release fired and ended breathing, his back bowed upward, painful in the most wonderful grip of pure shimmers, the coming sending waves of heaven and shivering kisses to his cock. Arched and suspended, life spun away in a dizzy hush and smother. Nothing moved or needed to for ages. 

Brain baffled and stunned, Jim slowly returned to knowing, weight sliding to his side, one leg still over his thighs. Cool air chilled his chest and stiffened the splatters as Blair rested his head on his shoulder. Lazy fingers played a circle around his heart, the gentle pets in time with his resumed breathing. Smiling, he rubbed his chin across the top of his lover's head and whispered, "I love the way you kiss me in the morning." 

"You think I need more practice?" 

"Even champions practice." 

Reaching down, Blair teased Jim's spent cock, his fingers full of honest promise. "Yep, and I've got my trophy right here, man." 

"We're both winners, Chief." 

Suddenly more serious, Blair shifted to snuggle closer, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. "Sometimes it scares me how much I love you." 

"I know the feeling." He pulled the sheet up to cover their bodies and then relaxed into the embrace. "I'm just glad we finally stopped fighting it." 

"I never fought it." 

"I know, but you never said anything." 

"Jesus, Jim, this is like the millionth time for this discussion. I was waiting for you to say something first, remember?" 

Sighing, he leaned back and put one hand behind his head, his memory stretching back over the years of being a coward. Even now he fought against the panic of discovery, the irrational need to keep his love a secret from the world and sometimes even from his partner. "Yeah, I remember. Let's drop it." 

"Sure." The tightness of the word and the tensing against him triggered his own defenses. 

"Come on, Chief. Don't be that way. We're together now, so why keep rehashing it?" 

"I said okay." 

"But you didn't mean it." 

"If I didn't mean it, I wouldn't have said it." 

As Blair tried to sit up, Jim pulled him back. "Don't get mad." 

"I hate it when you tell me what I really mean, man." 

"I'm sorry." 

"I know, but you say that every time you do it. It gets old." 

"I promise to work on it." The subtle easing of tension strengthened his hold. "Let's just lie here for a minute. It's still early." 

Blair kissed his nipple in surrender and smiled. "Yeah, that sounds cool." After a few moments of quiet, he pushed back his hair and stretched out his legs for more comfort. "Wish I didn't have classes and meetings today. It's been over a week since I've been to the station." 

"Yeah, Simon was just asking when my better half was going to show up again." 

"Better half?" 

"Yeah, he calls me half crazy and you're the other half. Thinks you keep me civil or sane or some such shit." 

"Simon's a hell of a bright person." 

"Very funny." 

Jim tickled his belly and laughed as Blair jerked away and jumped out of bed, his face contorted. "Oh, man, don't do that." 

"For a guide you sure are hyper sensitive." 

Smiling, but from a safer distance, he pointed a finger. "Do that again, and I'll show you hyper sensitive. Even your dials won't save your sorry ass." 

"You wouldn't." 

"Try me." 

Recognizing temporary defeat, Jim smirked. "Okay, no more tickling." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise. Now, come back to bed." 

"Just for a minute, and then I need a shower." He crawled in between the sheets and fell on his back, cradled under Jim's arm. 

"I think we both do." 

Inhaling deeply, Blair snorted. "Oh, yeah, man. You go in smelling like this, Simon's going to know for sure you're doing more with your better half than just working." Jim stiffened and remained still, the impact of the words a slap. 

"Jim? What's wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong." 

Sitting up beside him, Blair put his hand on his chest, his voice soft but steady. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to bring it up again, but I can't help how I feel. I just keep hoping you'll be okay with this some day." 

"I'm okay with it now. I told you that." 

"If you were, you'd tell Simon and the others." 

An involuntary twitch betrayed him as he avoided his lover's sad blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Blair. You know why I haven't said anything." He turned over on his side, his back to his partner. "I'm a cop. It's too dangerous. Besides, it's nobody's business what we do in private." He said the words like the rote chant of a childhood prayer, repeated so often he knew it even without thinking. 

Fingers trailed his spine gently before Blair's face settled at the base of his neck, his morning stubble a familiar and welcome roughness. His voice vibrated his skin as he whispered, his voice muted by the boundary of bones and flesh. "I just hate keeping the most important person in my life, the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me, secret." 

"We agreed. Live with it, Chief." 

"I am, Jim, but it's not easy." 

Swallowing back the choke of words, Jim cleared his throat, the clench of his heart solid ache. "We live in two worlds. People wouldn't understand us being gay anymore than the sentinel and guide thing. Trust me. A secret is the only thing that protects us." 

"I still hate it." 

"I know, but I do love you, Blair. Don't ever doubt that." 

"Might as well doubt my own soul, man." 

An arm snaked around his chest and Jim grabbed it like raining treasure, holding it captive over his heart as Blair licked and kissed the top of his shoulders. His mind stretched with the notion that his faith rested more in Blair's presence and strength than some alleged spirit hiding inside him. 

* * *

Walking into the bullpen, Jim noticed the men in Simon's office right away. "Shit." 

Brown glanced up from his desk looking grim. "Yeah, the stench of fed carries through walls, man." 

"What do they want?" 

"Don't ask me, but they just walked in a few minutes ago asking to see you and the captain." 

Before he said anything else, Simon opened his door and called him in. "Detective Ellison, my office." 

Once inside, he waited at attention, his body on guard. "Jim, this is Special Agent Jerry Martin and you know Special Agent Mulrooney." 

"What do you want, Mulrooney?" 

As his jaw clenched around the question, the new man spoke instead of Mulrooney. "Detective Ellison, you're looking a lot drier than the last time I saw you." 

"Excuse me?" 

"I was there at the Lazar compound when we arrested Vincent Lazar. You were just dragging him out of the swimming pool as we surrounded the area." 

"Oh, yeah, I remember." 

Jim fought back the flash of images, Michelle, her body pressed up against his as he pumped into her over and over, coming too fast, and then slowly fucking her again before morning. Mutual impulse and need drew them together and let him take her while he shoved away the fear of wanting his partner instead. 

Jim shook his head and caught Simon's concerned looks. "Sorry. So, are you here about Lazar?" 

Mulrooney took over the lead and answered, "Yeah, you could say that. Lazar broke out of prison two days ago." 

The hateful words echoed before they settled. "What?" 

"Jim, maybe you should sit down." Simon stepped closer but stopped at the raised hand. 

"Are you telling me Vincent Lazar broke out of a maximum security federal prison? How the fuck could that happen?" The pressure in his head throbbed at his temples. He pinched the bridge of his nose, Lazar's threats at the trial playing over in his mind. _You're a dead man, Ellison, you and anyone you care about._ Jim knew the difference between hollow threats and real ones. Lazar meant business and he had the power and money to follow through. Worse, he had a really good reason to want to. 

"He apparently bought off one guard and threatened the family of another. We've got some good leads, but so far we haven't found him." 

"And you're just now getting around to telling me about it?" 

"We were hoping to have him back in custody within 24 hours, but when that didn't happen, we thought you could help us." 

"Help you? Listen Mulrooney, you and your partner here should've had me on the phone as soon as you knew he was out." 

Martin interrupted. "Listen, Detective, we can't fight about that now. We've got reason to believe he's on his way back to Cascade, if he's not here already. Our information says he's got a deliberate agenda." 

"Deliberate agenda. Fuck agenda. I know what he wants. He wants me dead, and if he can find her, his wife, too." He turned his attention full force back to Mulrooney. "What about that? Is he going to be able to find Michelle and Edward or does Witness Protection have them covered?" 

Uneasy, Mulrooney avoided his eyes before he spoke. "They've been contacted. As far as we know, she's safe and the son's wherever she is." 

"As far as you know? From here that's not saying much." 

Suddenly defiant, the agent flared up, his voice angry. "What the hell do you want from me, Ellison? You think you're the only one who hates federal bullshit? We think she's going to be a target, too, but Witness Protection won't budge. It's under a different jurisdiction. She's their problem." 

"So, how hard would she be to find?" 

"I don't know." 

"You don't know?" The anger and incredulity grew, Jim's voice hoarse from the strain of holding back his need to punch someone in the face or kick out a window. 

"Look, normally I'd say it'd be impossible, but then normally I'd say someone couldn't just walk out of a maximum security prison. I can't say anything about this case except every bit of information we have so far indicates you're the first target." 

"Shit." 

Jim grabbed up his cell phone as Simon asked, "Jim, what is it?" 

"Sandburg." 

"Damn, you're right. I'll send a car to his office." 

Martin looked puzzled and asked, "Who's Sandburg?" 

"My partner. If Lazar's done his homework, it won't be me he's after as the first target. Damn it, Blair, pick up the phone." 

"Your partner?" 

Mulrooney explained while Jim paced with the phone to his ear. "Blair Sandburg. He's a grad student and a consultant for Major Crimes. Curly-headed guy who went in undercover as the son's tutor." 

"Oh, yeah, I remember." 

Just as Jim decided to try another number, Blair answered, "Sandburg." 

"Chief, where are you?" 

"Jim? What's wrong?" 

"Just tell me where you are. Simon's sending a car. Lazar's out and the feds think he's here." 

"Shit. I can be in my office in just a few minutes." 

Taking a deep breath, Jim nodded. "Good. Go there and stay put. I'm on my way." 

"I thought Simon was sending a car." 

"He is, but I'm coming over, too. I don't want you out of my sight. You know what Lazar wants." 

The breathy pause at the other end tugged at his nerves. "Yeah, I do. And we both know why." 

"We don't have time for that shit, Chief. Just get to your office. Hear me?" 

"I hear you. And don't do Lazar's work by killing yourself on the drive over, okay?" 

"Blair?" 

"Yeah?" 

Glancing around, all eyes watching, he cleared his throat as he swallowed the _I love you_ playing on his tongue. "I'll see you in a few minutes." 

"Sure, Jim, and I love you, too." 

Cutting the connection, he directed his words to his captain. "I want someone on him until I get there." 

"Jim, we should also set up a safe house. I can put you both there until the feds have him in custody." 

"For how long? No, this guy's got to be stopped. As soon as Blair's safe, I need to find Lazar and get him back to where he belongs, either in prison or a deep grave somewhere." 

Simon's phone rang as Mulrooney crossed his arms and frowned. "And just how do you plan to do that?" 

"I don't know yet." 

"Well, we've got a plan." 

"I know how good your plans are, Mulrooney. You almost got me and my partner killed with your half-assed work with Dmitri. Just stay out of my way and I'll get him." He moved closer, his face near the agent's, his eyes staring him down. "But hear this. If anything happens to Sandburg because you fucked around or you don't do everything you can to stop this guy, Lazar won't be anywhere close to your biggest problem." 

"You threatening me, Ellison?" 

"Just setting up the situation." 

Turning, he reached for the door just as Simon put down the receiver, his face somber. "Jim, wait." 

"What?" 

"There's been a shooting over at the school. There's one person dead and Blair's been shot." 

"Can't be. I just talked to him." 

"It just happened. The unit was already there. Dan Davis from fifth floor was walking in and recognized Blair as he went down." 

The world tilted as he fell back, the wall like nothing but hard air pushing against him. His captain touched his arm as he spoke, his voice gruff, but even. "Jim, listen to me, he's still alive." 

"But how bad is it?" 

"Don't know yet. But our men are already on the scene with the ambulance on its way. We need to meet them at the hospital." 

"He can't die, Simon." The words shook with his own tenuous breath. 

"He won't. Now, come on. Let's go see what we have to deal with." 

Following Simon out, he overheard the grumble from Mulrooney, but focused on the life of his lover rather than punching out another asshole. 

"Just his partner, my ass." 

* * *

Hospital racket always attacked his hearing before he could stop it, the cries and moans tearing at his eardrums and emotions. Layering on the antiseptics, alcohol, and blood, his stomach knotted with a threat of rebellion. 

"Jim, are you okay? You're looking a little green around the edges." 

"I'm fine, Simon. I just hate hospitals." 

"Yeah, I know. Me, too." 

Jim rubbed his face with both hands, his patience and senses tested and failing miserably. "How much fucking longer can it take?" 

"It takes as long as it takes. You know that. He's going to be okay. They just have to make sure he's stable before they can let you in there, so just settle down." 

"I'll settle down when they let me see him." He leaned back against the plastic chair and let out a long breath, working to redirect his attention. "So, what about the shooter? Did anyone get a description?" 

"I've got Brown and Rafe on that. So far we don't have much more than enough to know it wasn't Lazar personally." 

"He'd hire it out. Lazar's not the type to do anything like that himself." 

"Yeah, probably. Still, we're tracking down leads to the area where he might be hiding. Meanwhile, I've also got guards all around the hospital, and Taggart's keeping the feds busy with paperwork on some of the local connections Lazar had before you arrested him last year." 

"Don't they have all that stuff already? 

"Yeah, well, I figured it's better to have Mulrooney and his little dog Toto somewhere else for awhile." 

Shrugging, Jim struggled to keep his concern for Blair's condition manageable. "Martin didn't seem so bad." 

"Really? Well, maybe not, but if he hangs around Mulrooney long enough, he will be. The man's the definition of asshole." 

"Yeah, pretty much." Leaning forward, head down and his elbows resting on his thighs, Jim spoke softly. "This should never have happened, Simon." 

"Of course, not. Lazar should never have gotten out." 

"I'm not talking about that. If I hadn't fucked up in the first place, Lazar wouldn't even care about getting even. He'd already be off to Europe or somewhere. Instead he's here shooting Blair because of me and what I did." 

"You're talking about sleeping with his wife, right?" 

"Yeah. It doesn't matter that she thought he was dead. This isn't about me putting him in prison. It's personal." 

"Yeah, I figured. But, regardless of that, this isn't your fault. You had no idea this was going to happen just because you made a mistake one night. You're human just like the rest of us." 

"If I remember, you weren't real happy about it when it first happened." 

"I'm not really happy about it now, either, but you beat yourself up over it better than I could." Simon scooted closer as he lowered his voice. "It was an impulse and now you have to deal with the consequences, and that, my friend, brings us back to Sandburg." 

Sagging back in the chair, away from Simon, he met dark eyes. "I know. Why shoot my partner instead of me, right?" 

"He's your partner, Jim. He lives with you and is the closest thing you have to family you care about. It's not that hard to figure." 

"You think Lazar will try again?" 

"Probably." 

Before they could discuss anything else, a nurse came to the door. "Detective Ellison, there's a phone call for you. He says it's an emergency." 

Both men raced to the desk, Simon calling on another line for a trace while Jim answered, "Yeah. Ellison." 

"Ellison, it would've been so easy to make your man dead. Better luck next time." 

The impact of the familiar voice and the words cold-washed his body. "Lazar, you touch my partner again and you're a dead man." 

"Really? If you'll remember, I'm hard to kill. Still, I understand your attachment to your friend. So, understand mine. I want my wife and son back. You're going to find them for me." 

"I can't do that." 

"Oh, I think you can or your partner's going to be worse than dead before I get finished. I mean, a man who looks like that might just take my mind off you fucking my wife and trying to turn my own son against me. Hell, Ellison, a year's a long time in prison." 

"You son of a bitch." 

"Just be ready to take a call later tonight. I'll phone you at this number with details then." 

The click cut off any chance for more questions, his gut protesting with a fit of twists and knots deep in his belly. 

"Shit." Hanging up, he turned to Simon. "Lazar wants me to find Michelle and Edward." 

"How are you supposed to do that?" 

"Doesn't matter. I wouldn't if I could. He's going to kill her and take Edward." 

"He said that?" 

"He didn't have to. I know how his mind works." 

He heard the words over in his head, "Your partner's going to be worse than dead before I get finished." 

"I need everything the feds have on Lazar, his time in prison and everything before that. Everything." 

"Why?" 

"He's smart, but he's arrogant. I doubt he kept his mouth shut completely. There has to be a fuck up somewhere and I'm going to find it." 

Simon rested a hand on Jim's shoulder. "What did he say about Blair?" 

"Nothing I can't handle, sir. He won't get a chance to touch my partner again. Not ever." 

But in his mind he played over his enemy's threats and decided he'd send the man to hell with his bare hands if he had to. 

* * *

Sitting by the bed, his hands up and fisted together, Jim watched his partner sleep. Hair pulled back, pale skin made his whiskers like shadows, his face more haggard and thin around the bones. Getting shot did that, took away the color, aged the person with the blunt force of mortality. The groan from the bed drew his attention to the flutter of eyes and the series of surprised breaths. He stood up and reached over the rail to take the left hand, the warm thin skin an answered prayer. "Hey, Chief. You with me?" 

Drug-dazed eyes stared up at him, the blue cloudy and the lids half open. "Jim?" 

"Yeah, babe. You're going to be okay." 

"Hurts." 

"I know, but it'll get better." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." He raised Blair's palm to his lips and kissed it, his eyes misted and bleary. Placing the hand back down on the bed, he stroked it lightly while he talked, his words wet with relief. "You were shot in the right upper arm. They had trouble with bleeding and shock, but you're going to be fine with some rest." 

Still unfocused, Blair closed his eyes a few moments before he finally spoke again, his voice raspy. "And Shelly?" 

"Shelly Maynard?" 

"She was with me in the hall." The hoarse words pushed out while he kept his eyes shut, his hand turning up to take Jim's in his own and to bring it to his chest. 

"What do you remember about what happened?" 

"Too fast." 

"I know everything happened fast, but tell me what you can." 

Blair spoke very slowly, his tongue reluctant to cooperate with his lips. "What about Shelly?" 

"She was dead at the scene, Blair. There was nothing anyone could do." 

Taking a deep breath, his lover clasped his hand tighter, the nails biting his skin. "Jesus, Jim. She was just there, man, just saying hello." 

"I'm sorry." 

"God." Several choked breaths later, he opened his eyes, tears forming at the edges, but not quite falling. "She was a friend, such a good person, man. I know her mom, Ellen, and sister Cathy. My god, how can she be dead?" 

His lungs tight, police training no match for seeing his partner's grief, he shook his head. "There's nothing good to say here, Chief. She died for no good reason. I'm sorry." 

His tongue worked unsuccessfully to wet the lower lip as he swallowed hard several times. "When can I get out of here?" 

"Not for a couple of days probably. Even then, you're going to be taking it easy for awhile. That right arm isn't going to be very useful for a few weeks. The bullet didn't break the bone, but it nicked it. You've had some serious damage to the blood vessels and muscles as well. We don't really know about the nerves yet." Running the back of his hand along Blair's cheek, he added, "You were lucky, but this wasn't just a flesh wound." 

"It wasn't a kill shot either, Jim." 

"What?" 

Blair turned his head, dark strands of hair clinging to the white pillow. "The guy killed Shelly for no reason, but he made sure not to kill me. He could've, but he didn't." When Jim didn't answer, the younger man's voice tightened. "Tell me that Lazar's not blackmailing you with my life to find his wife and son." 

"I can't tell you that." 

"So, what are you going to do?" 

"I'm going to keep you safe." 

"Jim, this guy came out of nowhere." 

Caressing his face, Jim spoke with a determined hush, each word a promise. "He won't get a second chance. I'll take him out first." 

"He's been planning this for over a year, man, with nothing to distract him. He's too dangerous to tackle alone. I need to be there." 

"Not this time." 

"Jim, please." 

"No way." Shaking his head, the older man palmed his forehead. "This isn't up for debate. Now, I want you to get some rest. We'll talk more about all this later." 

Reluctantly, Blair took Jim's hand and held it as he shut his eyes. After a few minutes, he whispered, "God, I love you. Promise me you'll come back." 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"Do whatever you have to, man, but promise me." 

Leaning over the rail, Jim kissed his lover's forehead, a wisp of wild curl teasing his lips. "I love you, too. And I promise." 

He stood up and after awhile noted the muscles slowly relax in his guide's face, the mouth going slack, the breathing easier and not so labored. Sitting down, he picked up a file and made another promise, a promise to close the account on Vincent Lazar's growing list of debts. Dead or locked away, mangled and disabled forever, it didn't much matter. 

* * *

"So, any plans come to mind yet, Ellison?" Mulrooney sat at the table inside the hospital's makeshift command station, his tone impatient and challenging. 

"I'm working on it." 

"Working on it? Yeah, well, while you're working on it, the press is having a fucking field day with this university shooting of the girl and Sandburg. And now somehow they found out about the Lazar connection and his escape. We need to close this thing in a hurry." 

Jim redirected the anger and cleared his thoughts of the image of tossing Mulrooney's battered body off the roof of the building. Instead, he worried about the potential danger behind the leaks that threatened to give his enemy more information than he wanted him to have. "How did the press find out about Lazar?" 

"We're looking into that. Meanwhile, have you heard from him again?" 

"No, but even when I do, I'm not planning to do what he asks. That means we're going to need more manpower. We need guards on my partner as well as more investigative teams to search the city. He's here somewhere." 

Simon joined in, his face worn from the long hours and tension. "We've got stakeouts at every home where he might go, but so far there's been no luck." 

"We have to keep on it, sir. Lazar has this thing about pulling in old debts. If he thinks one of these people owe him, he'll use that. I'd keep extra people on Robert Camino and this guy David Lewis. Both seem to show up pretty often in his file." 

Jerry Martin leaned forward, running his hand back through his blond hair, the strain of the case dragging at his square face. "We've already done that, detective. The police and the bureau both have teams at those two places." 

"Good." 

"But I have to say this, based on his profile, this guy's not going to give up until he's either dead or he gets what he wants, and what he wants is his wife and son back." 

"But he's got to find them first." 

"True, but why you? Why not just use his resources to find them himself? In fact, why not find them before breaking out and then going to get them before leaving the country? Why all the risk? None of this makes any sense to me." 

Mulrooney answered before Jim could. "The profile also says he's got problems with obsession, likes to fuck with people's heads in the process. Getting even with our detective is part of that pattern." 

"Yeah, but why?" 

"Ask Ellison." 

Impatient, Simon snapped, "Does it really matter?" 

Jim's eyes narrowed as he rubbed his mouth, his jaw tight around the words he worked to keep even. "When I was undercover, I slept with Michelle Lazar." 

"Shit." Martin moved away from the table, his head shaking. "Well, hell, no wonder." 

"He'd been declared dead for over a year, but he doesn't see that as an excuse. He won't kill his son, but he'll kill his wife if he can get to her." 

"But that still doesn't explain why he insists that you find her." 

"Because he knows I can. Then he'll kill us both." 

Martin raised both hands in frustration. "What do you mean because he knows you can? She's in the Witness Protection program. The Bureau can't even find her through all the red tape. We've tried and they basically put us on hold." 

Shaking his head, Mulrooney crossed his arms. "Covert ops and CIA, right? You've still got connections." 

"Doesn't matter how I can do it. It's not going to happen. I'm not putting them at risk. When he calls, I'll try to figure out where he is." 

"And how do you plan to do that?" The older agent rested his elbows on the table, his face suddenly more interested. 

"I'll let you know when it happens." 

"So, we're pretty much where we started, nowhere." 

The phone rang before he could answer. He started the enhanced recorder and opened the connection. "Ellison." 

"How's our friend doing?" 

"He'll live." 

"You want him to stay that way, I need you to find some people." 

"I told you that wasn't going to happen." 

"I know what you told me, but that was before I realized she hadn't told you." 

"Hadn't told me what?" 

"I mean, I figured regardless of this hiding thing, the least she could've done is get a letter to the father." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

"She gave birth to a daughter in Chicago three months ago under the name of Saundra Williams before she disappeared again. Figure it out, Ellison. Unless the bitch fucked some other lying bastard a year ago, you're the man most likely." 

The swell behind his eyes blanked the light as Jim covered his face, his own voice sounding removed, the words stretched out and airy. "You son of a bitch. You're lying." 

"Not about this, no. The thing is, you can have your daughter, but I want my son. Find him for me, and I'll let your child live. Don't, and I'll kill her right after I kill your partner. You've got forty eight hours." 

"That's not enough time." 

"It's all you've got, Ellison. Oh, and if you think Sandburg's safe, check under his pillow." 

Suddenly disconnected, Jim closed the phone and raced to Blair's room, Simon and the others right behind him. Stepping past the guard, he opened the door and found his partner still sleeping, the room quiet. He reached under the pillow to find the single paper that read, "48 hours." 

Bracing himself on the rail, his body shaking, he handed it to Simon just as Blair opened his eyes. The younger man worked at smiling, but frowned at the crowd around him. "Hey, Jim. What's going on, man?" 

"War." 

"War?" 

"Yeah, Chief. War. Something I'm damn good at and plan to win." 

* * *

"I want an armed guard in the room with him at all times as well as out here and at every entrance." 

"You've got it." Simon turned to head down the hallway and stopped before he spoke again. "Jim, I swear we'll do everything we can." 

"Thanks, Simon." 

Jim took a deep breath, his body panicked, every vital racing. In his mind he took on the image of commando, a man braced and ready, the war only starting with a tense containment of the perimeter inside him. 

Mulrooney stepped closer, his face serious. "This guy's really starting to piss me off, Ellison. How the hell did he get that note in there?" 

"Probably using someone dressed as a nurse or a lab tech. Hell, it could've been just about anybody. But from now on, ID's will be checked going in every time, doctors and nurses included." 

"They're not going to like that." 

"I don't give a fuck what they like or don't like." Jim stood face to face, his hands fisted, his shoulders back. 

"Settle down, detective." Mulrooney stepped back, straightened his tie, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Whether you want to believe it or not, I'm on your side. This whole thing's been one fuck up after another, Lazar's escape, the shooting, and now this. You'll have your extra security if I have to bring them in from Washington myself. 

Startled by the shift in attitude, Jim shook his head, but nodded, "Okay, thanks." 

"Look, you go talk to your partner. Then do whatever's necessary to stop this guy." 

"Can I have that in writing?" 

"Fuck you, Ellison. I want this thing over just like you do." 

"No." Staring off, Jim shook his head. "Not like I do, Mulrooney." 

"Yeah, well, maybe not. Look, I've got Martin rounding up extra manpower and making a copy of the tape. I figured you'd want to keep the original. Also, I'm working with Banks on a safe house." 

"Better than the last one, I hope." 

"For all the shit he's pulled, Lazar's still no Dmitri. Between the Bureau and your captain, we'll have all the security we need." 

Jim nodded, his mind racing through lists of details while still noting the man's presence. "What about having a doctor or nurse there in case something happens?" 

"You've got it. Now, I've got some calls to make. I'll meet you back here as soon as I'm finished." 

Leaning against the wall, he squeezed his eyes shut long enough to clear his head of the haunting words "your daughter". He couldn't think about that right now, couldn't let it distract him from keeping Blair safe. Taking a few deep breaths, he entered the room, his body primed and ready to do the job of protecting the only person who mattered. 

Once inside he motioned to the young guard as he spoke. "Give us some time here." 

Once alone, Blair stayed quiet, waiting as Jim checked the closed blinds and walked around all the edges of the room before finally standing by the bed. Head down, he found words stalled, his mind dizzy. 

Touching his hand, his partner spoke quietly. "You're scaring me here, Jim. What happened?" 

"Chief, I'm sorry." 

"About?" 

"I'm going to have to leave you for a while." 

"I already figured that." Jim met the blue eyes, the effects of the medication less noticeable than earlier. 

"Simon's going to be here. I've just got to do something." 

"Find Michelle and Edward?" 

Biting his lip, looking away, the words scraped his throat raw. "My daughter." 

Breathing and heartbeat increased, but Blair held his hand tighter. "Son of a bitch." 

"Yeah, I am." 

"I'm not talking about you, man. Lazar. Son of a bitch is using her against you, right?" 

"Yeah, and you." 

"Man, what a dick." Blair closed his eyes for just a minute and then turned to stare back, his eyes narrowed with hurt. "Jim, you told me you were careful with Michelle." 

"I was, Chief." 

"You used a condom?" 

"Yeah, we did. I always do. But you know those things aren't always foolproof. Something must've happened. The timing fits. I'm sorry." 

"Shit." He tightened his lips, his eyes wild and looking off in the distance. "But what if he's lying? What if he's just saying that to get you to find her?" 

"He could be." 

"But you can't take that chance." 

"If I've got a child, Blair, I've got to find her." 

"Of course, you do. It's just..." 

"Just what?" 

"This just feels wrong, like a trap. I want to go with you." 

"You can't, Chief. You're too hurt right now." He rubbed his lover's tense jaw and spoke in a hush. "I have to do this." 

"I know." 

"Then trust me. Simon will make sure you're safe and I won't take anymore chances than I have to." 

Swallowing hard, Blair nodded, his forehead creased with worry. "I do trust you, but I haven't told you something, something important." 

"What?" 

"If you do have a child, she could be a sentinel. She's probably not, but she could be." 

"How? I thought this stuff was supposed to be genetically recessive?" 

His voice more strained, his body tight, Blair pulled Jim down closer. "But that's just theory. We don't know for sure. There just aren't enough complete records. I'm just saying that you need to be prepared." 

"Prepared for what?" 

Looking away, his face twisted, Blair's voice wavered. "She might not survive even if you find her." 

"What?" Stunned, Jim reached over and turned his lover's face back toward his. "What the fuck are you talking about?" 

"Sentinel babies are rare because they usually overload their senses and die in what sounds like a zone out." 

Releasing his hold, Jim pulled away to sag down in the chair nearest the bed. After long moments of quiet, he finally forced the whispered question. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"After we got together, I never thought it'd be an issue." 

"You kept this from me deliberately then?" 

"I just never really thought about it." 

"Never really thought about it?" 

"Jim, please, I swear I never wanted to hurt you." 

His mouth open, Jim lowered his face to his palms, the rough skin pushing back against the solid pulse of ache behind his cheekbones. A low cry escaped before he could catch it and then he stood up, his leg muscles flexed for running. 

"I've got some things to do. I'll tell Simon when I'm leaving." 

"Jim?" 

"I just have to do this. I can't deal with anything else right now." 

"I'm sorry." 

"I know you are, but right now, I can't think about anything but protecting you and finding my daughter. The rest of this mess we'll figure out later." 

"I know you're upset, but are we okay here?" 

He waited several long seconds before walking back to the bed, his face still strained and rigid with painful knowledge. "What you did wasn't okay, but I understand why you did it. We both made mistakes here, but we still love each other, right?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Then, we're okay and always will be." 

* * *

Jim watched Simon giving orders just like in the bullpen, shoulders squared and his voice like sandpaper over gravel. "And I want that yesterday and then tell Brown to check the last reports and get them over here on the double." 

Standing quietly beside the desk, Jim waited until the last officer left the room before shutting the door behind him. "Simon, I need a favor." 

"If this is about taking care of the kid while you're gone, you don't even have to ask." 

"It is, but there's something else." 

Simon put the folders on the table littered with other stacks of reports and sat down with his coffee. "So, ask." 

He placed a large envelope in front of his captain before he spoke, his voice uneasy, but deliberate. "I need you to take care of some legal things, some things I should've done already, but never got around to. 

"What things?" 

"If I don't come back, Blair's going to need some help to sort through all this stuff. I called a lawyer last night and made sure everything's covered, but I wanted you to keep this, to make sure he gets it once he's well enough to leave." 

"Jesus, Jim." Reluctantly, he touched the package, but withdrew his hand and leaned forward. "You're coming back. There's no need for all this. Besides, you should be the one giving it to him, not me." 

"I'm a cop. Whether it's this case or another, this still has to be done. I've put it off long enough and I don't want to take a chance he won't get whatever he needs if something should happen. As for giving it to him myself, you know how he is. He'd get upset that I'm doing this now and make a big issue out of it." 

"Shit. Let me guess, a will, right?" 

"Yeah, along with insurance, my military and police benefits, the deed to the loft, and savings." 

"Then I guess except for the rings, it's official." 

"Pretty much, yeah. When I come back, we might take care of that, too. He looks good in gold jewelry." Dry humor pushed the words, but fear held his breath. 

Dark eyes studied him a few extra moments before Simon finally smiled. "I was wondering how long it would take before you finally admitted it." 

Relieved, he shrugged and pretended his friend's acceptance meant nothing special. "Blair wanted to tell you right away, but I've had a hard time with it." 

Suddenly more serious, his eyes softer, Simon spoke quietly. "I know. When he first started at the station, I'd sometimes catch you watching him. It hurt like hell to see you working so hard against yourself like that, but I figured you'd work it all out somehow. Seems like you did. So, let me guess, this happened shortly after that thing with your father, right?" 

Tilting his head, Jim stared at his friend, his mouth open with amazement. "Damn, you're a good cop." 

"I was a cop before I was a captain. You were hurting a lot over that." 

Jim stepped to the window, his arms crossed, his face tight with hard memories. "I thought I could get past all the differences with my dad, but it didn't happen. But Blair was there for me that night, and every night since." 

"Why that night? I mean, you two have been through some pretty tough cases before that." 

"We were just sitting there, and it just sort of happened. He touched my face in that special way he has and then I was gone, no chance of ever turning back or wanting to. He's changed my life completely, made it seem like there might be a reason for all this. I can't really explain it, Simon. Nobody's ever touched me like that. Nobody." 

"I think they call it love, Jim." 

"Yeah, well, it's not a big enough word." 

"No, but I'm glad you finally told me." 

Nodding, Jim turned, blue eyes meeting brown. "That's my fault. Blair wanted to have a party, announce it to the world. I just wanted to keep it to ourselves and not face the hassle." 

"I can understand that. You're a cop and we both know it's going to be a bitch if this gets out, and some people may never get over it. It's just that I wish you'd trusted me a bit more. 

"It's not about trusting you. It's about how I feel about it." 

"How do you feel about it?" 

Looking away, Jim avoided the serious eyes that suddenly studied him too closely. "I love him, but I'm still not comfortable about the gay thing." 

"The gay thing?" 

"Yeah. I've never thought of myself as gay, and now I'm doing things I used to arrest people for." 

"Jesus, Jim, you're a mess." 

"I know." 

"No, you don't, not really. Look at me and listen for a minute." 

Following orders, he glanced up. "What?" 

"Remember my reunion and my friend Peggy?" 

"I remember." 

"She's dead now, but I sometimes wonder what would've happened if we hadn't been afraid to go for it, to really try to make it work despite the black and white thing. I mean, I know being an interracial couple's not as big a deal as it used to be, but back then, man, you could substitute lynching for gay bashing and get the same thing." 

"It's not exactly the same, Simon." 

"No, I mean, I can't pretend I'm not black like you can pretend to be straight, but the bottom line is if you love him, what the fuck difference does it make? Don't do the bigots' work for them. Don't let them convince you that just because you've been lucky enough to find someone, it's wrong because you both happen to have the same equipment." 

He stood there several long moments before he cleared his throat, the words soggy and difficult to form. "It's not as easy as that." 

"I know it's not, but you've got Sandburg, and you'd better not tell him I said this, but he's worth the effort." 

"Thanks, and I won't. His head's big enough already." 

"It should be. He's a lucky bastard." 

Smiling for a brief moment, he quickly sobered. "So, you'll take care of him for me, and keep the papers?" 

"The papers aren't a problem, and if Lazar wants him, he's going to have to come through me first." 

"Just remember this guy's a stone cold killer and hires the best. Be careful." 

"Let me worry about careful. Now, do me a favor." 

"What's that?" 

"Go do what you have to, and make sure you get your sorry ass back here in one piece." 

"I'll do my best, sir." 

"Do better than that. If I have to go to a funeral instead of a wedding, I'll never forgive you and neither will Sandburg." 

* * *

Opening his eyes, Blair pinched his lids against the brightness, the sound of flipping pages catching his attention. Even the simple change in position sent stabs through his shoulder and back, the nerves in his upper arm protesting any movement. "Shit." 

"I see you're awake." Foggy blue eyes focused on a vaguely familiar young man sitting in the chair near the bed, his gun exposed and ready under his unbuttoned jacket. Slim, with short blonde hair, he wore the standard FBI issue of the bad brown suit with a matching striped tie. Obviously tired, he closed the copy of the latest NEWSWEEK and stood up to stretch. 

"Who are you again?" 

"Special Agent Jerry Martin. You've been pretty much out of it every time I've been in here, so I'm not surprised you don't remember." 

"Sorry." Swallowing through layers of dry cotton, he cleared his throat and glanced around for a pitcher. 

"No reason to be. Getting shot's a real bitch. You want some water?" 

"Yeah. I can't reach it." 

"No problem. Let me put your bed up some first. You choke and Ellison will kill me." 

The unexpected laugh brought on coughing, the spasms gripping his chest and shoulder blades. Wrapping his left arm around his middle, he lay very still, his eyes squeezed shut trying to fight off the fear swimming up as he realized he had no feeling at all in his right hand. 

"You okay?" 

"I'm fine." 

He waited until the head of the bed stopped before he sucked at the straw and glass steadied and held to his mouth by Martin. Several long sips later, he rested for a moment and then took a finishing swallow before pushing it away. 

"Better?" 

"Yeah. Thanks." As Martin moved back to the chair facing the door, Blair asked, "So, you've met Jim?" 

"Yeah, but I don't think I made a very good impression." 

"Why's that?" 

"He and my partner have some kind of bad history. Guilt by association." 

Closing his eyes against the sudden dizziness, Blair let the world stop spinning before he commented. "If your partner's Mulrooney, yeah, bad history is one name for it. Still, Jim's not overly fond of government agents of any kind." 

"Why's that? I mean, he worked for the government himself, right?" 

"That pretty much answers the question if you think about it." 

"Yeah, maybe." 

Before he said anything else, Simon entered, his square face drawn from fatigue. "Hey, Sandburg." 

"Simon. Where's Jim?" 

"He left a few hours ago. You were asleep when the information came in, so he didn't wake you. You feeling any better?" 

"I'll be fine, man, but I wish you'd gone with him. It's so fucking dangerous when he does this action hero goes solo shit." The anger slipped into his words, the frustration of being wounded adding extra energy to the tone. 

"Martin, could you leave us alone for few minutes?" Standing by the bedside, Simon motioned to the door as he spoke. 

"Sure. I'll be right outside with the other guard." 

As soon as he stepped out, Simon leaned closer, bracing his arm on the rail. "Look, Blair, I know you're upset, but you have to know this is something Jim has to do on his own." 

"He wouldn't if I weren't lying here so damn useless." His head fell back against the pillow as his left arm came up to cover his eyes, his head pounding, his whole body still one hum and throb despite the pain medication. 

"Listen to me. You were shot with a high caliber weapon at close range. The bullet severed a tendon, muscles, and major blood vessels. Your body's still in shock and, frankly, you're lucky to still have a right arm. You could've lost it if there weren't some damn fine surgeons to do the repair job. It's going to take some time to heal, including physical therapy, but it's going to heal. In the meantime, you can help Jim the most by just getting your ass stronger." 

"I just hate the idea of him being alone." 

"I know." 

Lowering his arm, his eyes meeting Simon's, he spoke quietly. "Do you think there really is a daughter?" 

"Could be. If there is, Jim will find her." 

"Did you know about Jim and Michelle before now?" 

Simon frowned, his eyes avoiding Blair's. "I knew. You know how Jim is. If a woman has a sob story, he's the one she tells. Why he feels the need to sleep with them all, I don't have a clue. Impulse control is not his strong point." 

"Yeah, sometimes he defines being a dick, but I still love the guy." 

"So I heard." Meeting Blair's worried eyes, he smiled before he continued talking. "He told me before he left." 

"Man, and you're not surprised or upset or anything?" 

"I probably should be, but I'm not. I've known Jim a long time and if I'd made a list of all the men in the world least likely to be gay, his name would've been on it. Then you came along and changed things." 

"He's not really okay with it though. He says he is, but he's not." The sadness softened the brittle edges of the words as he stared at closed blinds. 

"Maybe, but no matter what he feels about that part, he still loves you. I knew that without the confession this morning. Besides, I'm not blind. It's pretty obvious to people that you're the person who matters most in his life." 

"Is it going to be a problem?" 

"Not for me and not for your friends." Shrugging, he stood straight and rubbed the small of his back. "But I'm not going to lie and say there won't be people who won't try to make something dirty out of it. You've been around cops enough to know that some still live in the past. Hell, some think it's a damn shame I made captain, dark as I am and all." 

"But it's better than it used to be, right?" 

"Yeah, but it's not what it should be, either. Right now, though, I think you should probably be resting some more. I hate to say this, but you look pretty damn puny." 

Blair took a deep breath and then closed his eyes. "I can't feel or move my right hand." When he didn't get an answer, he glanced over at Simon, the tired face solemn. "What?" 

"The doctor said that could just be temporary. Jim asked before he left." 

"Could be?" 

"Yeah. The nerves are most likely in shock. They'll know more in a few days after they run some more tests." 

A litany of right-handed activities flashed in his mind, each endangered, each one a favorite. Stroking his lover's velvet, hot cock while he pumped his fingers deep inside his ass faded into mere puffs of nothing. Caressing his lover's whiskered cheeks and embracing Jim's body swelled and vanished. He couldn't imagine touching the man he loved with only one hand, didn't want to ever be so limited. Worse, Jim would blame himself, would hate the constant reminder, would withdraw like he always did when guilt took over. 

Biting his lower lip, he pushed away the taunting hurt and refocused on Simon. Determined numbness halted the panic, an icy distance slowing the words. "And if it's not temporary?" 

"We'll deal with that if it happens. Meanwhile, our main concern is to keep you safe from Lazar." 

Shutting away his own fears, he nodded and asked, "I don't suppose there's any chance of me getting out of here in time to go to Shelly's funeral, is there?" 

His face grew more somber as he spoke. "Even if you got out, you couldn't go. Too much press and not enough protection. Besides, according to the doctor, we don't need to have the safe house ready for at least two more days at the earliest. I'm sorry." 

"Could I at least call her mom?" 

"I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, try to get some rest. I'm going to send Martin back in for awhile and take care of some things." 

"Martin seems okay." 

"Yeah, for a youngster paired up with Mulrooney, he'll do. Seems to know what he's doing." 

As Simon headed of the door, Blair called out. "If you hear from him, let me know." 

The captain nodded, but both men knew they wouldn't hear until Jim either finished what he started or died trying. 

* * *

Jim sometimes wondered if the government went out of its way to recruit idiots and assholes. Standing at the edge of the isolated clearing, he shook his head. How could anyone with a working brain cell relocate a woman and child hiding from a psychopath in the woods a few hours from his home? 

His internal alarm tingled with questions about the whole unreal business. Finding Michelle and Edward had been easy. Too easy. Mulrooney complained about red tape, and yet the information came to him in only a few hours. Lax security around the woman's whereabouts surprised him, pissed him off at the arrogance of it. He couldn't imagine Lazar not being able to do the same thing with his money instead of favors. None of it made sense. 

Moving in closer, he scanned the perimeter carefully. Despite the recent escape, no guard stood watch, not a one. Blair's warning of Lazar's possible trap played over in his head, but he continued, his mission not really an option. 

He scouted the area one more time using both sight and hearing, but only found forest noises and the sounds of two heartbeats in the small house. Going around to the back, he walked up on the deck and knocked, his body tense as he waited. 

The door opened, the person standing there a drained shell of the beautiful woman he remembered. A year of hardship carved its pain in her angular face, the pale skin bruised and shadowed, dull eyes staring out in suspicion. Slow recognition brought a frown rather than a smile. Her words slurred on the tongue, her diction slowed by gin and tonic. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"I've come to warn you about Vincent." 

"Vincent's in prison." 

"He's in Cascade." 

Apathy rather than fear carried her words. "Come in then." She stepped back from the door, one fragile arm wrapped around her waist. 

"Where's Edward?" 

"He's downstairs on his computer where he always is." 

"Look, Michelle, I need the two of you to grab whatever you can and come with me. Hasn't anyone from the program contacted you to warn you?" 

"You think you can protect us? Fucking protect us from Vincent? God, you're so blind." Scorn powered her voice, binding the words into an ambush of biting slivers. 

Startled, he stepped closer, his hand on her shoulder. The stench of alcohol mixed with sweat clenched his stomach. "He shot my partner. He wanted me to find you and Edward. He wants Edward and then wants to kill you." 

"He won't kill me anymore than he already has. You've got no idea what's going on here, Jim. You don't have a clue, never did. Shit." She put her hand to her head, unsteady as he helped her to the sofa. 

"I have to get you and Edward out of here." 

"And go where? Don't you know? Vincent knows where we are already. He has for months now." 

Not nearly as stunned as he might be, Jim sat beside her, the pieces falling into place. "Then tell me about the baby." 

The small intake of breath added to his own grief as she whispered, "God, nothing ever changes. He couldn't wait to tell you." 

"Is it true? Do I have a daughter?" 

Brown eyes misted, tears forming, her words like a groan. "Did have." 

Closing his eyes, he imagined a small face, the crying prompted with the utter explosion of uncontrolled senses. "Please. Tell me what happened." 

She wrapped her arms around her middle, her shoulders hunched and rounded. Speaking softly, the hurt swelled the words touching his ears, making them echo to match and magnify the pain inside him. "When I found out I was pregnant, I didn't know what to do. Edward hated me and withdrew even further. He's so quiet, he scares me sometimes." A frail hand rubbed her forehead, her face scrunched against the memory. "I had no one to talk to, no friends, nobody. I thought about ending it." 

"Abortion or suicide?" 

"I'm such a fucking coward, I couldn't do either. I didn't care who the father was, it was still my child and I was too afraid to die. Plus, there was Edward. I couldn't leave him alone. He needs me." 

He touched her arm as she blew her nose and continued to talk, her body trembling and the words choked. "I was sick almost from the beginning and nearly died in delivery. We were in Chicago then. When she was born, we knew right away something was wrong. God, it was like a bad dream. She was so beautiful and I named her Sarah, but I couldn't touch her or hold her. She kept crying and having seizures. They tried all kinds of medication, but she only got worse. Nothing they did worked and by the end of the second week she just stopped breathing. I wanted to die, too, and that's when Vincent found Edward and me and had us moved here." 

He shut away the loss, the clawing slice of grief at his heart, and focused instead on her last words. "You're saying he knows where you are? How do you know for sure?" 

"He told me." 

"When?" 

"Whenever he called." 

"Shit." 

She turned to face him, her eyes more clear. "Vincent is a master mindfucker, Jim. If he sent you here to find us, he's doing it for a reason. He's obsessed with getting even. He's not going to kill me because he owns me and I'm taking care of Edward, but he wanted you to know about the baby from me just to make sure it hurt more for both of us." 

He nodded, his mind still reeling, his gut knotted. "I know that." 

Meeting her eyes, he worked to keep his voice even. "He's bought off people in the program. Let me get you and Edward away from here, back in real protection. You shouldn't have to live like this. Isolated, you're at his mercy." 

A brief glimmer flickered and died before she shook her head. "It doesn't matter where you put us. He'll find out." She started to say something else, but her line of vision shifted, her face confused. "Edward?" 

The force of the blow stunned him, the rain of sparkling flashes exploding into sudden bursts of color, the rush like fists pounding in his ears. His skull failed his brain as he spun into black silence, his skin and bones nothing but air around the image of his partner alone and in danger. 

* * *

"You want to talk about it?" 

"About what?" Blair stared at the ceiling, his vision unfocused from both drugs and not having his glasses. Pain medicine dragged his lids down, the groggy sensation weighting his thoughts and his muscles. 

"About the shooting." Martin uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. "It helps to talk about it sometimes." 

"I already gave a statement." 

"I'm not talking about that." 

"I know." Closing his eyes, he pushed away the rush of images, the gunshot exploding Shelly's chest to red, the screams, the fear that tangled his mind, the shocking force stealing even his voice. The impact of the bullet sent his body into a tailspin of swirling sensation, pain draining into numbness, a cocoon against awareness. 

"I was shot once, too." 

Martin's voice brought him back to the present as he opened his eyes to see the solemn man watching him with concern. He berated himself for wishing it was Jim's face and asked, "So, how'd you get shot?" 

"At the end of my second case during the take down. The perp panicked, pulled a gun we weren't expecting. He killed another agent and wounded me in the stomach. I was on leave for two months, but I figured that was better than being dead, though I have to admit at the time it didn't much feel like it. Almost didn't come back." 

"So, why did you come back?" 

"Didn't want the fear to win. I've always wanted to be in law enforcement, but I always thought bullets would hit other people, not me. Stupid, huh?" 

"Not really." He wanted to say Jim thought that way no matter how many times he got injured, but he didn't. Thinking about Jim working alone, so vulnerable with no back up, hurt too much, so he told his own story. "The first time I got shot, I couldn't believe it either." 

"The first time?" 

"Yeah. We were transporting this guy named Quinn and he broke out and kidnapped Simon. Jim and I had to go after him and ended up tracking his ass all over the North Woods. By the time it was over, I had a bullet in my leg and a concussion. Add to that, I'm afraid of heights, really afraid. Guess how they took me out of the forest?" 

"Don't tell me they air lifted you?" 

"Yeah. I don't know what was worse, the bullet or puking all over the place by the time they got me down." 

Martin sat back in his chair and shook his head. "Oh, man, I hate heights, too. That must have been awful." 

"Yeah, it was. The thing is, I was so shocked because I never thought it could ever happen. When it did, it was like, man, reality check, please. I could actually die here." 

"Yeah. It makes it hard for awhile, but you either get over it, or find a new line of work." Looking puzzled, Martin asked, "But you're not a cop. Why is it you're partnered with Ellison?" 

The practiced lie came automatically. "I'm doing my dissertation about closed societies." 

"So, you're doing everything a cop does just for a paper?" 

"Sort of, yeah." 

"And you're not even getting paid?" 

Blair snorted, his humor improved by the notion he might ever get a check from the city. "Sometimes they act like I should pay them." He paused as he sobered, his mind wandering once again to Jim. "Still, it's been worth it. To be honest, it's changed my life, and I'm not talking about the getting shot part, either." 

"Yeah, you and Ellison seem pretty close." 

Focusing on Martin, he saw no element of accusation. "We're best friends." 

"You live with him, too, right?" 

"So?" 

"So, nothing. I'm just surprised the two of you don't get hassled." 

Blair closed his eyes, the drugs pulling harder to bring on sleep. "Does Jim look like the kind of guy you should hassle?" 

"No, but he's not always around." 

"That's true, like now for instance." His voice took on a dreamy softness. "I wish he were though. I miss him." 

"You're falling asleep on me here, looks like." 

"Yeah, a little." Drifting, his tongue resistant, he managed to say, "Thanks." 

"For what?" 

"For talking about it. It does help." 

"Then you're welcome. And don't worry. He'll be back." 

"God, I hope so." 

* * *

Moans sounded in the distance and kept a close rhythm to the pain throbbing in his head. A woman's mournful cries clawed his ears, just listening chilling his blood. Hands tied behind his back and ankles bound, his body stretched only so far. Squinting his eyes against spears of light, Jim tried to focus, but found vision tricky. Everything floated and his stomach with it, the unexpected rise of bile in his throat rolling him to his side. 

"Fuck. Don't puke all over me for christsakes." Rough hands grabbed and held him steady, the retching tearing at his muscles. Several painful heaves later, Jim cleared his throat, the sour slime refusing to leave his mouth. "You done yet?" 

"Yeah." 

"Fuck." 

Shoved away from the side of the sofa, Jim squeezed his eyes shut to calm the dizziness before looking up into the angry face of a stranger. Broad shoulders stretched the dirty tee-shirt, the sleeves rolled up over a weight lifter's biceps as dull grey eyes stared back. "If it weren't for Vincent, man, I'd kill you right now and be done with this shit." 

Swallowing hard and taking in a deep breath, his throat strained the words as he talked. "Where's Lazar?" 

"None of your fucking business." 

"Now, now. Settle down, Carl. Don't be so rude to the detective. And clean that shit up." 

"Let the bitch do it." 

"The bitch is my wife and she's busy. Now just fucking do it." 

As the guard grumbled and left, Lazar came in from the hallway, his pants still unzipped, his belt open. The mix of semen and sex singed Jim's nostrils, the scent musky and sharp with an added hint of blood. Tucking in his shirt, he finished dressing and sat in the chair across from the sofa. He templed his hands in front of his face as he stared, his smile both smug and menacing. "Looks like my kid did a number on your head, Ellison. About time he did what I told him." 

"Where is he?" 

"Downstairs. So, why don't you ask where Michelle is?" 

"It's not much of a mystery." 

Carl came into the room with a bucket of water and kneeled to clean up the vomit, his face twisted in disgust. 

Shrugging, feigning boredom, Lazar leaned forward. "I guess not. Still, I have to say when you've only fucked ass for a year, it's hard to change diets." He licked his lips, the vulgar suggestion obvious. "I'd ask you if you've ever tried it, but I've seen your partner. It'd be a wasted question." 

"Shut up, Lazar." 

"With that ass, he'd be fucked to death in prison. Wouldn't last a week on my cell block." 

His stomach knotted in disgust, his arms shaking with anger. "Too bad someone didn't do you the same favor." 

Laughing, he nodded, "Don't think they didn't try. But, back to the point of this whole drama, what do we do with the man who fucked my wife and sent me to prison?" 

As Carl wiped off the last bit of mess, he complained, "The sooner you get it done, the sooner we can get the hell out of here. I'm telling you, Vincent, stay here much longer and someone's liable to show up." 

"Then you can play cowboy and shoot them until I'm ready, Carl. Just don't rush me on this. I've waited too long." 

"Well, everything's set up already. Let's just take the kid and leave. Why can't we just get it over with for fuck sake? This is crazy." 

Lazar came out of the chair and kicked the larger man hard enough to send him sprawling. "Tell me what to do again, bitch, and it'll be your balls next. Got that?" 

"Yes, sir." The passive compliance coming from a man who could rip Lazar's head off didn't really surprise him. He'd seen it too many times in vice to bother caring. 

"Good, now hurry up and help my son get his stuff in the van. It won't be much longer." Lazar pulled Carl to his feet and ran his thumb along the square jawline, his fingers combing the short brown hair before patting the cheek with both dominance and affection. The larger man shuddered at the touches, nodding with a smile when Lazar slapped his ass to send him to the basement. 

"Nice dog, Lazar. Does he fetch?" 

"Yeah, and sucks cock like a god, Ellison. Of course, with that fuckable mouth on your partner, we could have a contest, my Carl against your Sandburg." He stepped closer to the sofa, his eyes narrowed and smiling. "Of course, it's a little hard to have a contest when one of the contestants is dead." 

The whirling in his head blurred his vision, his chest restricted with air too thin to take in. "What?" 

Before Lazar could answer, Carl came up the stairs. "I've set the timer for five more minutes. Is that enough?" 

"It'll do. Now take Edward out the back and I'll be there in a minute." 

"Don't fuck around, Vincent, okay? Five minutes." 

"Take my son out and stop being an old woman." Grimly, Carl nodded and followed orders. 

"Answer me, Lazar. What did you do to my partner?" 

"Hired a pro who specializes in hard targets. I just wanted to see the look on your face right now when you realized you couldn't save him. He's dead and so's your bastard child, all because you fucked a woman who wasn't yours. How's it feel, asshole? Was the fuck worth it?" 

"You son of a bitch." Working at the cords binding his wrists, Jim didn't move fast enough to avoid the fist to his face. Black pain bulged with a wash of iron across his tongue, the vision of Blair's dead body like a swelling wound in his head. 

The gun blast deafened his hearing, the unexpected weight across his chest shutting off air, his lungs begging. Lazar's body twitched with the next explosion and impact. Eyes rolled back as he slid off, his head hitting the armrest of the sofa as it fell. 

Michelle stood just to the side, both hands raised and aiming the gun, her eyes bruised, the right side of her face puffed out and bleeding. Quickly, she stepped to his side, fumbled at the ropes and got his hands free. As she untied his feet, he picked up the gun and wiped the blood from his face. 

She whispered, her voice raspy. "We don't have much time. Carl has Edward and there's a bomb downstairs." 

"I know. Let's go. The van's in the back." 

"The son of a bitch raped me." 

"I know, but right now we have to go." 

She lifted her face, her eyes hollow. "Whatever happens, take care of Edward. I have a sister." 

"Nothing's going to happen." 

"Promise me, Jim." 

"I promise. Now hurry up." 

Before either could stand, Carl barreled though the door, gun raised and screaming. "You bitch." A bullet took her high in the chest, another in the forehead. Her body fell back across her husband's, the blood splattered with grey matter and bits of bone. 

Sight still unclear, Jim raised his weapon and fired, hitting him in the shoulder and then the heart. Standing still, shocked grey eyes rounded with disbelief. His life gone in the brief instant it takes to escape, the flesh betrayed by spirit, Carl died, his heartbeat silent. 

Light narrowed around him as Jim struggled to the door, the vertigo swinging his senses into confusion. Spotting the van, he drank in air and focused on distance, commanded his body to keep going. Step after step, he willed survival. Fear trailed behind him, the truth of Lazar's words a thumping chant wanting him to stop, to give up and be done with it. As he reached the van, a boy's voice called out, the words stretched and terrified. "Where's my mom?" 

"Edward?" 

"My mom, where is she?" 

"Get in the van. There's a bomb." 

Seeing the panicked face, the torment twisting the features, he knew the next move, but couldn't allow it. As the boy started to run, he tackled and held him, forced him to the ground as the world shook and rumbled. The blast seared space and scorched the air with burning. Beneath him the boy's body shook, the trembling growing stronger, grief no louder than when he whimpered, "My mom," over and over. 

* * *

Jerking up from dreams riddled with gunfire, Blair reached out for Jim with his good arm, but found only the metal rail of the hospital bed. Blinking several times, the commotion from the hallway pushed away the fuzziness as he realized no one else sat in the room. "Shit." He still fumbled for the call button when the captain pushed open the door, Martin behind him. 

"Simon, what's going on?" 

"It's okay, Sandburg. We stopped him before he got to the room." 

"Who?" 

"We haven't officially ID'd him yet, but he looks like a hired shooter. Martin here took him out when he was changing shifts with Brown." 

Martin straightened his tie and took several deep breaths. "His picture came through on the wire last month. He was involved in another shooting outside of Baltimore. I happened to remember because he looked like a teacher I hated in high school." 

Blair shook his head as he took in all the words, his mind still not quite clear. "Someone was really sneaking in here to kill me?" 

"I'm just glad we got him." The young agent slumped in the chair, his calm demeanor suddenly gone, his hands shaking. "I've never killed a man before." 

Simon put his hand on his shoulder. "It's never easy. Look, are you going to be okay?" 

"Yeah, just give me a minute." 

"Sure." Turning back to Blair, his face still somber, Simon spoke softly. "We just got word that there's been an explosion up by the North Woods. We've got reason to believe it's Jim." 

A sudden chill claimed his body as he struggled to keep his voice steady. "What reason?" 

"A ranger spotted it and called in support. They've got men on the scene trying to contain the fire and we've got two survivors, a boy and a man who fits Jim's description." 

"What do you mean fits his description? How hurt is he?" 

Simon shook his head, his hands braced on the rail. "We don't know yet and there was no ID. Looks like a head injury. He was unconscious and the boy, well, the boy was in shock. Kept saying something about his mother. They're both being transported here by helicopter. ETA's about another twenty minutes. We've got a trauma team waiting." 

"Any sign of a baby?" 

"No, no baby." 

Swallowing hard, Blair bit his lower lip as he closed his eyes. "And what if it's not Jim?" 

"Then we keep looking until it is." 

* * *

"I don't give a fuck if they've got him on the moon, man. I want to see him." 

Simon shook his head and used his hand against the middle of the younger man's chest to keep him in the bed. "Settle down, Sandburg. You can't do anything if you fall on your ass getting there." 

"Then get me a wheelchair or something." His voice pleading, Blair met dark eyes, his face pale and twisted with frustration. "You said a concussion, but he won't wake up. If he's still out, then there's a reason." 

"The doctor said he's running more tests. You know how head injuries are. It's not always easy to tell what's going on right away." 

"But I'm his medical contact and they want me to sign for drugs and shit. You know how hypersensitive he is to everything. Or he could be zoned out. I can't tell anything while I'm stuck here. I have to see him." 

Surrender easier than full restraints, Simon walked to the hall. "Brown, let's get a wheelchair in here." 

"Sure, sir." The detective only took a few steps, grabbed one from the nurse's station, and rolled it back inside. He nodded at Blair with a big smile. "Let me guess, Jim's room, right?" 

"You've got it. Simon, hand me my robe, man. No need for a show." 

Putting his legs over the side of the bed, he shook as he slipped his feet into shoes and ignored the flood of pain through his back and shoulder. Using his left hand for balance and with Simon's help, he got in the chair, a cold sweat already beading his forehead. 

"You okay?" 

"I will be as soon as I see Jim. I'm a little one-handed here though, so could one of you do the favors?" 

"Like we'd let you go anywhere alone, kid." Simon took over maneuvering the chair and turned to Brown. "I need you to go check if they've got anymore information from the scene. The last report came in a couple of hours ago." 

"Sure, captain, no problem. Tell Jim I said to hang tight." 

They made their way down the hall to the elevator and waited. "What about Edward? How's he doing?" 

Simon pushed the already lighted button a few more times as he spoke. "They've got him under observation. Doesn't seem to understand a lot about what's happened except that his mother and father are both gone. We're talking seriously traumatized kid here. Mulrooney's pretty much stepped in and taken over. He said something about looking for a next of kin for the mother, but one of Lazar's cousins is making noises about custody." 

"And what about Martin? How's he handling the shooting?" 

"Not as well as he'd like everyone to think. I told Mulrooney to make sure he sees the counselor. It's pretty much mandated, but he might need more than just a few trips. Killing somebody, even in the line of duty, can really do a number on a man's head." 

"I've had nightmares about it and I've never even done it, just seen Jim do it. Sounds like a mess." 

"Yeah, but we've got plenty of our own mess to deal with." 

"It's going to be okay, man. I've just got to get Jim awake and get our asses out of here. He's going to need some time off to process all this though. You know how he is. He's going to be feeling guilty as hell for what happened." 

"Even though it wasn't his fault." 

"Doesn't matter." 

"Yeah, I know." 

The elevator pinged and doors opened. They rode in silence to the fourth floor and then went into room 427. Jim lay unconscious, his face swollen and bruised on the left side from his cheekbone to his chin, a bandage wrapping the back of his head while a machine monitored his vitals. 

"I need to be as close as I can. I need to be able to touch him while I talk." 

"Blair, listen, he's not even going to know you're here." 

"Yes, he will. Now, come on, man. Help me out here." 

Simon pushed the wheelchair into position so that Blair sat facing Jim and could put his left hand through the raised rails of the bed. "I'm going to go find the doctor to see if they know anything more than they did last time I asked." 

As soon as the captain left, Blair reached through the slats and took Jim's limp hand, drawing it closer, the fingers warm against his palm. Biting his lower lip, he wished he could use both hands to hold him, dreamed of drawing him next to his own body to keep him safe. He wanted to caress his face, to stroke the whiskers and pet him forever. Pushing away his own self-pity and desires, he focused instead on watching Jim's face as he spoke quietly, his voice soothing but insistent, the words slightly choked. 

"I know you're hurting, Jim. I can see that. You've been through so much, but you can't just go to sleep and quit on me here. I need you to wake up. I need you, Jim." 

The face remained unchanged, but the index finger twitched the slightest of twinges. "That's it, man. Listen to my voice and wake up. The doctors are working over time to get me to sign papers for all kinds of drugs and tests. I can't do that. I need you to show me that you're going to be okay. Come on, Jim. Open your eyes for me. Just do it." 

Glancing up at the monitor, he noted the slight increase of heartbeat and respiration, the blood pressure still steady. "That's it, Jim. You're doing it. Just hear the words and think, man, I wish he'd just shut the fuck up and let me sleep in peace for godsakes. Come on, wake up and tell me to just shut up and kiss you, man. I'm waiting." 

And for the next twenty minutes he waited and talked and kept on talking until finally he rested his forehead on the railing, his eyes squeezed shut, tears burning just behind the lids. 

"Chief?" 

The raspy voice brought his head up. "God, you're awake." 

"Just shut up and kiss me." He spoke with his eyes still closed and the words barely a whisper, but they answered a prayer nonetheless. 

* * *

"So, how much longer do I have to stay?" Blair rested his left arm protectively over the securely strapped right one as he spoke. 

"It's as long as it takes, Chief." 

"Yeah, tell me about that, Mr. I'm going to check out against medical advice Ellison. Don't start with me, Jim. I was talking to the doctor." 

"Maybe you two should hash this out after I'm gone, Mr. Sandburg." 

"There's nothing to hash out, man. It's done. I just want to know when I can leave." The short tone cut off any comment from Jim, who stood quietly by the bed working to keep from cracking open his skull with the mere clench of his jaw. 

"The wound is healing nicely and I'm pleased with that, but I'm not happy with the continued paralysis." 

"Me, either. So, when do you think I should know if it's going to come back?" 

"Well, if you're not having any movement or sensation in the next week, we should probably think about some other options." 

"Other options? Like what?" 

"We won't know until some more of the swelling goes down and the neural function gets more of a chance to come back on it's own. Later on, we'll talk about physical therapy and if the dysfunction continues, some possible surgery, but I want to keep that as a last resort. We still don't know for sure the exact cause. We repaired a lot of damage from the bullet, and this isn't that uncommon in severe trauma. We just have to be patient." 

His face grim, his lips thin, Blair asked again, "So, when can I leave?" 

"Barring complications, tomorrow afternoon. I'll have the nurse give you some literature to read about how to care for the arm. I'll check in and make sure you understand about the home care and the medications before you leave, okay?" 

"Sure, okay." 

As soon as he left, Blair closed his eyes and slumped back against the pillow. "I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to snap like that." 

"It's okay." As Jim brushed a wayward curl from his forehead, Blair captured his hand. 

"God, I've missed you." 

"Me, too." Squeezing his hand gently, Jim leaned over the rail and kissed his lover's cheek, the whiskers a delicious burning. "I wanted to thank you for coming to my rescue yesterday." 

"How's your head?" 

"Pounding, but better." 

"You should've let them keep you longer." 

"Why? I can rest better just being here with you or at home than in some hospital bed. Besides, the concussion's not that bad." Stubble brushed his palm as Blair rubbed his face into Jim's hand, the rough heat a soothing reality he craved and needed. 

"Sit down and keep me company then. This place sucks. I can't wait to get home." 

"I know." Jim moved a chair closer to the bed and lowered the metal rail to be even nearer. He took his hand again and held it to his own face, the touch easing the ache that shuddered through his bones. 

"Wish you could crawl in here with me." 

"Might shock the nurses." 

"Might give their dull lives a thrill, too. I know it would do wonders for mine." 

Smiling, his eyes closed, Jim soaked in the energy of the contact, the flood of words that fed his hunger to hear his lover's voice, a voice to ward off the memory of fiery blasts and a child's cries for his mother. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"We need to talk about what happened." 

He stiffened, his mental rebellion armed to defend the walls against barely contained emotions already warring against him. "There's nothing to talk about. Everyone's dead but Edward." 

"And you." 

"Yeah. And me. What's to say?" He released Blair's hand and stood up, opening the blinds and crossing his arms as he avoided the concerned glances. Outside, the rain washed the world grey, the wind sweeping the wet streaks against the glass into eerie webs. He imagined for a moment he saw himself out on the street, his legs powerful as he ran away from the past, ran away from his own questions. He dreamed of being rinsed clean and baptized, to be blessed with nature's forgiveness. 

"Jim, don't do that." 

"Don't do what?" 

"Shut me out. I need to know what happened, and you need to deal with it." 

A rush of anger fired his gut, the words coming out stronger than he intended. "Don't fucking tell me what I need to deal with, Sandburg. I'm dealing with it." 

"By not dealing with it. That's not going to work. It never does, but lord knows, it's not from the lack of trying." 

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" 

"You avoid talking about it and push it away like it doesn't matter. It's going to slam your ass and you know it." 

Turning, one hand up in a stop motion, he worked to control his temper, his face flushed and his muscles tight. "Give me a break here. I just saw a woman killed for no good reason. This should never have happened." 

"And?" 

"And what?" 

"Say the rest of what you're thinking." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

"I'm talking about what you're really thinking." 

Shaking his head, his whole body on alert, Jim started towards the door. "You're not a fucking mind reader, and you don't know shit about what I'm thinking. I've got to go. I can't breathe in these places." 

As he touched the handle, Blair's steady voice stopped him. "Jim, it's not your fault she's dead." 

Stalled, he rested his head forward, the skin pressing against the wall, visions of Michelle's touches, her eyes, her death all right there all over again. Several deep breaths later, he managed to force his confession, to say the words he hated. "But I couldn't stop it. None of it." 

"Lazar kept the craziness going, not you. You're not some super hero. You did everything you could." 

Standing straighter, Jim came back to the chair by the bed, his eyes still not meeting his partner's. "Did I? If I'd never touched her, if I'd turned her down that night, none of this would've happened." 

"Maybe, but you don't know that. She came to you, remember? Besides, I believe that everything happens for a reason. Everything we do leads us to something else and teaches us something." 

"Like what?" 

"I don't know. If nothing else, maybe to make sure we don't take anything for granted." 

Head down, he stared at his empty hands, his voice a choked whisper. "Michelle named her Sarah." 

"Sarah's a good name. I wish I could've seen her." 

"Me, too. She only lived a few weeks, Blair. Maybe if we'd known, you could've done something to save her. You could've helped with the senses thing, told the doctors what to do." He swallowed hard, his vision cloudy and his eyes stinging. "It was my fault she suffered." 

His head lowered face down on the bed as Blair rested his hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing the muscles. Several long minutes passed while he struggled to control his breathing, the air too thick and stubborn. Fingers tenderly combed his hair as his partner remained silent. He lifted his face and saw the tear trailing the cheek, his free hand automatically reaching up to wipe it away. "I'm sorry, Chief. I didn't mean to lay this all on you. You've got enough to worry about without all this, too." 

"I love you even when you're so wrong." 

"Wrong?" 

"It's not your fault, and even if it were, so what? You did everything you could to fix it, but you're not God, Jim. You can't control the world or what other people do. Give yourself a break and just let it go." 

"I don't know how to do that." 

"I know, but we can work on that together." 

"That might take awhile." 

"I've got a whole lifetime." 

* * *

The sense of detachment helped lower the dial on the pain, the hammering at the back of his head and down through his neck more manageable than before. His sight still distorted the world, but he didn't mind so much since he stared at Mulrooney's ugly face just across from him at the table. "I promised his mother to find her sister." 

"You didn't have the authority to do that." 

"She asked me right before she died, Mulrooney. The boy should go to his aunt." 

Frowning, the agent shook his head. "Look, take it up with the child welfare people and the judge. It's out of our hands anyway. I mean, the kid's still on heavy drugs just to keep him from jumping out the fucking window. Whoever gets custody's looking at some heavy duty medical bills, I can tell you that." 

"His grandfather left him most of the estate. The money's there." 

"So, let the courts figure it out. It's not your problem." 

Jim stood up, his body still reluctant to work easily, his muscles complaining around the bruises and spasms. Walking to stand by the window, his voice stayed low and very even, his rage just lying under the surface. He focused instead on keeping his pledge to the woman who suffered because he gave into impulse, the woman who had his child and mourned her loss when he couldn't. Paying some of his debt by saving her son gave him at least some sense of honor, something to help relieve the shame swelling like a malignant growth inside him. 

"I wonder what the papers would say if they heard the Lazar story?" 

"What are you talking about, Ellison? The Lazar's story's been in the news all week." 

Simon leaned back and smiled. "Not the whole story though, right, detective?" 

"No, sir, not the whole story." 

He turned his steel blue eyes on Mulrooney, his jaw tight around his words. "They haven't heard about the general fuck up that let him out of a maximum security federal prison in the first place. I'll bet the details on that would make the public feel really secure. They don't have the story about how a government agency failed to protect a primary witness and her son against a man who killed his own sister. They have no clue as to how easy it must be to buy off a government agent. What is it, Mulrooney? You guys don't get enough money? A woman's dead now because the government promised to protect her and didn't give a shit once she testified. You fucked up her life to put a man in prison where you people couldn't keep him. Wonder how that story would play on the evening news." 

"Gee, Jim, I'm thinking a movie of the week might even come out of this one." 

Mulrooney stood up and closed his files, the temper flushing his face. "You two through having fun yet?" 

"Not even close." Jim stepped in his space, his words a menacing hush. "You're going to tell whoever's in charge that it wouldn't be good for public image if this story gets out. Tell them that Edward belongs with his mother's sister Irene. He deserves to be able to try to find some sense to all this, and he's never going to do that as long as he's with a cousin who worked for Lazar's organization." 

"What do you know about the cousin?" 

"I know he was a member of Lazar's crew before prison. The file's being faxed to your office today. He wants Edward for the money." 

"If that's true, then that will at least help me push this thing." 

"Push whatever you have to. Michelle wanted her son to have a chance to live a normal life, and he's going to have the best chance we can give him. He goes to her sister. Period." 

Mulrooney straightened his tie, looking first at Simon and then back to Jim before shrugging his shoulders. "I'll do my best and if that's not good enough then use some of your fucking contacts. I've got to go make some calls." 

"Just make sure they're the right calls." 

He jerked open the door and slammed it hard enough to rattle the window when he left. 

"I think he's a little pissed off at the strong arm tactics, Jim." 

He settled into the chair next to his captain and dropped his face to his hands, the throbbing in his temples in time with the yellow flashes behind closed lids. 

"Jim?" 

"I'm fine. Just a headache." 

"I can imagine. Look, I can pick up Sandburg when they release him this afternoon and bring him to the loft. Why don't you go on home and get some rest? You look terrible." 

Lifting his head, Jim met concerned eyes as he sat back in his chair. "He still can't feel his hand." 

"I know." 

"What if it never comes back? What if..." 

"Stop with the what if's, Jim." Simon raised his hand and halted any other words before he finished. "If it happens, it happens, but I really don't think it will. That's not the point though. You're going to be there for your partner." 

"I want to be there." 

"Then be there and stop blaming yourself for things you can't change." 

"I'm not doing that." 

"Yeah, and I'm not the least bit worried about my best friend, either." 

Pushing back from the table, Jim stood up, the dizziness forcing him to grab the chair. 

"You're in no condition to drive. I'll take you to the hospital to pick up Blair and drive you both home. Maybe he can talk some sense into that thick skull of yours." 

"God, you're bossy." 

"Yeah, and I get paid for it, too. Nice job if you can stay alive long enough to keep it." 

* * *

"It feels good to be home." Blair sat on the couch, his face tight from the strain of trying in vain to find a comfortable position. 

"Yeah, it does. You want anything?" 

"You sitting beside me would be nice." 

Jim took a deep breath and stared out the window, the afternoon sunlight glaring and harsh. His brain whittled and scraped the inside of his skull, the slow scratch against bone echoing into his forehead. Using both hands, he rubbed his face, ignoring the tender skin around the bruises. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little tired. Why don't I just fix us something to eat and then I can help you to bed." 

"I'm not hungry, and I've been in bed for too long already." 

"You're supposed to rest until you go back Friday." 

"Jim, would you just turn around and look at me. You've been acting like I'm contagious ever since we got here." 

Still avoiding his partner's eyes, Jim walked to the kitchen. Opening the cabinet, he pulled down three boxes and asked, "Which kind of tea would you like? Didn't you say comfrey was good for healing?" 

"Yeah, so maybe you should make a big pot for both of us." 

"Yeah, maybe." As he boiled the water, he remained quiet, taking down the mugs and teapot with extra care. He kept waiting for Blair to start talking, but instead glanced up to see eyes closed and head back, his breathing steady. "You okay?" 

"Better than you." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It means I'm going to sit and rest. When you decide you can handle some talk or a one-armed hug, I'm here." 

The mug slipped without warning, the crash of ceramic breaking on the wood startling the air. "Jim?" 

"I'm sorry." 

"It's okay." 

As he kneeled to pick up the pieces, the bits fell through his numb fingers. Panic jabbered and warned him of the world ending before he could slap it away. "Shit." 

"What is it?" 

He closed his eyes, his mind fumbling for reference and then stood up slowly. "Remember when I tried to get Danny's killer and my senses kept going off line?" 

"Yeah. Is it happening again?" 

"My hands. It's like they're not even there." 

"Jesus, Jim, you're falling apart." He met Blair's eyes, the blue misted over, his voice a soothing command. "Get your ass over here and let me hold you." 

The few steps made for miles in his mind, the welcomed solace overwhelming as he sagged beside his injured partner. The left arm pulled him closer, his head over his heart, the beating a lullaby to the living. "I'm so sorry about your arm, Chief. I'm sorry about everything." 

Sliding down, his legs stretched out, he rested his head in Blair's supporting lap. "I know you are, Jim. Just rest for now. It's going to be okay, I promise. We'll do this together." 

The caress of his lover's hand eased him into a more quiet place, a world without the swallow of chaos. Gentle strokes settled the violent storms and silenced the roar, calming the angry rage against his own disgraces. He starved for those touches, the easy pets that made his animal spirit stop pacing and curl into a dreamless slumber. Blair knew his worst impulses and tamed them, forgave him his sins, and delivered a resurrection of hope. Squeezing life into a shriveled heart, his guide graced him with salvation from the terror of his own doubts, the gnawing of his own fears. Slowly, he drifted into the cradle that swayed with the steady hum of simple love and caring, rocked and protected by the infinite strength of his guide. 

* * *

The End 

 


End file.
